he was a solarium
by the insane have strength
Summary: "He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking." ― Leo Tolstoy, 'Anna Karenina'. Scorose fluff. Rated K for language & sexual implications.


he was a solarium

_"__He stepped down, trying not to look long at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking." _

― _Leo Tolstoy, 'Anna Karenina' _

scorpius hyperion malfoy knew better.

his parents had raised him better than this.

but he couldn't help it.

he loved Her.

he loved the way She walked, the sweet sway of Her hips and the way She balanced Herself ever so mightily. he loved Her hair, the locks that cascaded down Her back in a lovely collaboration of energetic reddish-brown corkscrew curls and bounced around Her shoulders as She walked. he loved Her eyes, the intelligent blue and golden gaze that he could just dissolve himself in forever, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in a world where sapphire and amber ruled the planet, tinting everything with their warm glows. he loved the way Her form leaned and moulded into his own as they hugged, Her curved body becoming one with his. he loved Her.

he had often laughed at his father when draco had displayed some unnecessary affection towards his mother, how draco would hold astoria in his arms and whisper in her ear. it almost repulsed scorpius, really. parents couldn't be all lovey-dovey and mushy and sweet, that was wrong! it was juvenile, those displays of love and affection. the glazed look that took reign over draco's soft grey eyes when astoria smiled at him. scorpius had to admit, that his mother was beautiful, but, she was his mother. she couldn't be hot, couldn't be sexy. she wasn't attractive, she was a mother. she couldn't be attractive. that was just wrong.

but then he realized how much he loved Her, and how much sense his father's romantic ways began to make in his mind. not that it was even remotely tolerable, that much hadn't changed, but scorpius knew exactly why his father did what he did. draco was in love with astoria. scorpius was in love. he wanted to do anything for the Girl he loved.

it was like his entire vocabulary, the entire world was filled with lowercase letters except for those that had to do with Her, properly capitalized in a way that he knew could only be for the holy.

if She was a temple, there he would pray.

"scorpius, sweetheart?" the melodic voice of his girlfriend penetrated his deep thoughts, the singsong sound of his name on her tongue sweet and delectable. scorpius sighed, a cold wave of reality sweeping over him.

"hey," he combed a hand through his soft blonde hair as his girlfriend's manicured hand rested gently on his shoulder. he touched his free hand to the back of hers, holding it there. he loved her, didn't he? at least, he thought he did. he had loved her, that much was true. at least, he thought he had. had he really never loved her? had he just been fooling himself this whole time, thinking that to get over her he had to love juliana? was that the way things had to unravel to to make him see that what he was doing was wrong?

"you alright?" she asked quietly. juliana was a softspoken girl of seventeen, in his year but a short year younger than he was as he had been born late in the year before her birthyear, making him recently eighteen. her parents were cormac mclaggen, a brave ex-gryffindor and the keeper for the ballycastle bats, and her mother was his father's friend pansy parkinson. scorpius remembered his father saying how strange it had been when cormac and pansy had announced their engagement, because draco hadn't any idea that the two even knew each other. the story from juliana was that they had met at a therapy session in months following the great battle of hogwarts in nineteen-ninety-eight. neither mr nor mrs mclaggen had had much to do with the war, both fleeing when the actually battle had torn apart hogwarts, and they were both wraught with guilt after the fact.

juliana was beautiful, easily one of the most beautiful girls in the seventh year, but she wasn't the right kind of beautiful. her wavy hair was a dark near-black, her skin was tanned from too much sun over the summer and she had the most adorable smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks – but only there. her acute eyes were silver and icy, the intensity hitting him with a burst of arctic water each time he gazed into them. juliana was always dressed to the nines in pencil skirts and high heels, pulling off a classy look that, on other girls, would appear inappropriate for a sixteen-year-old. she had the body every girl wanted; with soft curves in places that had her male peers' eyes bugging out of their sockets, and legs to die for. she was tall for her age, and one of the top witches in her year for academics. she was sweet, kind, and nobody would think of batting an eyelash if the sorting hat claimed she belonged in hufflepuff. but she was in fierce gryffindor, like he was, and the two had been rivals up until third year. but juliana was such a caring person that nobody could say anything bad about her even if they wanted to. there was nothing to dislike about juliana mclaggen.

even her twin was wonderful! aurora mclaggen was an equally brilliant student – the sorting hat had considered putting her in ravenclaw but instead chose on slytherin – as well as a stellar quidditch player – seeker – and an incredibly reliable friend. she too radiated sweet, sweet love and optimism; aurora was just as undeniably angelic as her sister. she was identical to juliana in looks, save for a few freckles on her arms that juliana did not possess, and was eerily similar in personality.

"yeah, i'm fine." scorpius lied. "i just need a few moments alone, alright?" he murmured, still mostly hopelessly lost in his mind. juliana let out a small sigh, bending at the waist and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. her curtain of delicious hair fell in his face, and he closed his eyes momentarily. he couldn't look at her; looking at her made him see just exactly what he was doing. she was in love with him, he wasn't in love with her. he couldn't look her in the eyes, because then, then that would make everything a lie. it was a lie, it was all a lie. but he could never let her see that. he hated lying to her. so then, why were they still together? because he hadn't grown a pair and dumped her, claiming that he couldn't love her because he was instead in love with her best friend, whose boyfriend had died just over one year before?

dear merlin.

he couldn't lie to juliana, he couldn't look straight into her grey eyes – they reminded him of his dad, and he couldn't lie to draco either – and tell her that he loved her. he couldn't tell her that he wanted to break up, either. he yearned to be wanted. and juliana wanted him, so why couldn't he just man up and love her already? he had fooled himself into believing that he was in love with her countless times before, but they all seemed so fake now. the love he felt for her was not love. he was sure that that's what it had been, but then he had actually felt it; love. he had felt its warm arms wrap around him and smile against his skin, showing him the beauty in things that he had not noticed before.

and they had released him after he realized that he already had a girlfriend. love's arms would not satisfy him with the confidence that would give him this love back, merely giving him a taste of what he wanted and could never have.

it was unbearably cruel.

he loved Her; not juliana: Her. he loved everything about Her. She had made him see how much he loved Her, loved everything. She had shown him the goodness in the world that he had failed to see before. and by Her uncle george, he was desperate. scorpius was desperate to feel Her love, to feel Her body, mind, heart, and soul working in harmony with his as they shared the intense, passionate fire of his love.

"see you later." juliana said gently, stroking his hair and turning to walk away, her heeled shoes clicking rhythmically on the flagstone floor. "love you," the young blonde woman called over her shoulder. she hummed a melody as she left him sitting there, and scorpius felt a cold vibe shudder through his body. she was humming their song, the song they had slow danced to back in their third year during the gryffindor christmas party. personally, he hated the song, but the connections to his girlfriend almost forced him to enjoy it whenever he heard it; juliana loved the song and the singer, and for a long time, that alone had been good enough for scorpius. the notion of having a song, a universally iconic teenage goal, had been good enough.

the words of this special song were imprinted on the back of his mind, but he willed them to go away. he prayed that they would go away. they reminded him of this sinful tangle that he was tied up in, torn between the love he felt for juliana, and the different kind of love he felt for his best friend. they reminded him that he was doing everything wrong, that he was lying to people he cared about, including himself.

"oi," a soft voice broke him from his reverie. it was Her soft voice that he was relieved to hear, Her voice that haunted his dreams, his memories, his heart. he couldn't escape from Her. he didn't want to escape from Her, no sir, but he felt like he was obligated to. he was like his father, who was like his father before him; scorpius was always running away.

he rarely physically ran away, rarely picked himself up and hiked off to merlin-knows-where. but his action of running away was, rather, mental and emotional. that figurative person inside of him who represented his spirit took leave of his body and hid. that person refused to face its problems, rather shrug them off and appear as cold. he had to hurt people to keep them from getting too close, close enough to see the real him. it was the only way. he felt like he had to hurt Her, to make Her hate him so that She wouldn't want to get closer to him. so that he could live his life on, unhappily, but possibly. because he could never be with Her.

he could never be with Rose Ginevra Jean Weasley.

"hey, you alright?" at the sound of Her voice breaking the silence again, scorpius looked up.

She was standing there, looking small and incredibly vulnerable, like a gust of november wind could just pick Her up and blow her away. Her arms were crossed tightly over Her body and She shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking like She would secretly rather be any place but here. except for Her eyes. Her light blue eyes with flecks of golden hazel —a perfect combination of the eyes of Her parents— stared directly at scorpius, connecting with him and pulling all the strings in his body. they were full of concern, concern for him, and scorpius was compelled to run to Her and just hold Her in his arms. despite this, he still didn't break his gaze from them as She slowly started to walk closer to him.

and dear merlin, She looked perfect, just like She always did. her long, rust-coloured tresses were twisted loosely on top of Her head in a messy, careless bun, a few rebellious pieces having fallen out and idly framing Her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were that familiar muted turquoise that warmed scorpius up, like drinking a warm glass of butterbeer on a cold december day. Her lithe frame was wrapped in a particularly worn one of Her gran's famous woolen jumpers: a bright, deep gryffindor red – odd: She was in slytherin – with an ornate golden 'r' on the front. the sweater was overlarge, with its sleeves so long they had to be rolled up twice for Rose to even hope to see Her hands, and the hemline that fell to the middle of Her thighs. judging from the size and the colour, he assumed that this particular sweater belonged to Her father. this would be uncomfortable for most, but scorpius knew that Rose preferred larger clothing, She had often said that She loved having a sweater that reminded Her of blankets, sleeping bags, something that She could fall asleep in. Her charcoal grey leggings hugged Her legs tightly, showing the definite shape of Her toned quidditch muscles before disappearing into Her scruffy black combat boots.

it was somewhat comforting, having Rose there, and scorpius wished that he could talk to Her about a subject that he wanted more than anything to talk to Her about. he wanted Her, and he wanted Her to know. however, he knew that he could never tell Her, could never have Her.

"i'm fine." the words meant to come out as strong and confident, but his voice faulted and the words didn't come out when they were supposed to; hesitating and then cracking, his voice fading into the air. she sat beside him on the cold stone bench, leaning against the side of the arch that framed it. scorpius was hyper-aware of Her presence; he could feel every breath she took.

"you don't look fine." She mused. Her blonde companion sighed.

he wasn't fine. he was being tortured, for merlin's sake!

"come again? 'torture'?" scorpius's cheeks went hot. he hadn't meant to say that out loud. he avoided looking at Rose, concentrating on the toes of his shoes. even as he forced himself to ignore Her comment, he felt one of Her hands rest on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "come on, mate. what's up?"

"forget it." he murmured.

"all right." this reply shocked him. normally Rose was too stubborn to let him go without giving Her a proper answer, but She seemed almost happy to let it go. there was, of course, and undoubted concerned undertone in Her voice, but scorpius ignored it. sure, She was worried about him, She was one of his best friends, after all. Her hand did not abandon the toned quidditch muscles of his shoulder he had earned from six years of being a chaser on the gryffindor team, Her touch was gentle and memorable; he knew he was going to feel the warmth of Her hand on his body long after She had left.

after a long, comfortable silence, scorpius sighed (this was something he had been doing a lot of, lately). "i... i'm just messed up, Rosepetal." he said at last, looking up to meet Her eyes. bad idea. once he met Her eyes, he could not look away. Her eyes were pulling him closer to Her, and he had to fight to keep from falling into Her. he had to keep his composure. "my head's in all these weird places, and i'm just trying to figure everything out. understand?" She nodded as if She really did wholeheartedly know what he was talking about, Her warm eyes moving to search his face.

"i understand." She whispered, ghosts and shadows swirling behind Her eyes. scorpius felt a pang in his gut; She did know how he felt. he felt like he was falling, and Rose had been falling for almost a year now. Her boyfriend and one of scorpius's friends, daniel, had died thirteen months ago, on their two-year anniversary. scorpius knew that Rose still loved the second-eldest finnigan boy, and that She wasn't over him yet.

he saw the tears well up in the corners of Her eyes just before She quickly looked away, biting Her lower lip gently. "yeah, i understand." She echoed, before removing Her hand and standing up.

"Rose," scorpius began. he felt guilty; he tried so hard to avoid the topic of the deceased boy, but danny would always be there. he would always be a ghost hovering just over Rose's shoulder, over the shoulders of those that had known him and over the shoulders of his father, seamus, his mother, and his three sisters.

scorpius stood up, his over six-foot tall figure towering above his companion's small frame. She stood very still, seeming to be using all Her concentration to keep from crying. he had been Rose's friend since he was six years old; he knew this face. he knew all of Rose's faces. he had seen Her laugh, seen Her annoyed, angry, frustrated, and happy. he had seen Her daydream; he had seen Her nightmares. he had been with Her every step of the way. "it's okay, Rose; it's okay." he wrapped his muscular arms around Her, holding Her athletic body close to his own.

that was the third time he had seen Rose Weasley cry.

the first time he had seen tears stream down Her face She had been eleven years old. it was right after the sorting, when the hat had placed Her in slytherin house. during the feast, right before dessert, james potter had walked over from his seat several students down at the gryffindor table, and asked albus, who was sitting beside scorpius because that was what best friends did, what the hell was wrong with Rosie because She looked like She was going to faint.

scorpius and al had promptly gotten up from the table, marched right over to the slytherins, grabbed Rose, and rushed Her from the great hall. in the entrance hall, She immediately collapsed onto the nearest stationary stairs, finally breaking down and letting Her tears all gush out like a dam breaking after holding back a river for years. he remembered Her confession that She was terrified of what Her father would say. ron weasley's opinion was the one that mattered the most to Rose, though anybody who knew Her knew that She wouldn't admit it. eleven-year-old Rose had told scorpius and al that She didn't know how to tell Her father that, not only was She not a gryffindor, but that the house She had been sorted into was the one that had produced so many bad wizards that anybody who knew ron knew he wasn't giving up his grudge against them. it still took an hour of hermione weasley 'firmly reminding' her husband to be nice to draco and astoria when the malfoys came to visit or the weasleys were attending one of scorpius' grandmother's functions.

the second time Rose had cried was when She received the news that daniel finnigan was dead. scorpius hadn't been with Her, but as soon as he had heard, he had rushed to Her side. of course, She hadn't been all too excited to have company, preferring only the companionship of Her cousin lucy, who was a year older, but She had accepted his hugs and comforting hair-stroking. he had been with Her, in Her room back at home – thankfully, mcgonagall had allowed some of daniel's closest friends, including him and Rose, to take some time away from school to grieve – lying on their backs on the crisp white sheets of Her tiny twin bed, when seamus and maggie, daniel's older sister and the only one of the finnigans that had recovered enough to carry on a human conversation, had dropped by. seamus had been too much of a wreck to say anything and only sipped at the tea that hermione had provided for them, but maggie had talked to the both teenagers and told them what had happened without talking down to them like the rest of the adults had. daniel had had a stroke, which was extremely uncommon for someone of his young age and physical prime, but, as she had said 'the numbers inside him just didn't add up, in the end'.

and when maggie and seamus had left, and ron and hermione had gone back downstairs, scorpius had held the Girl with blue-amber eyes that were now dry with having cried all Her tears. he remembered Her voice, small and weak and totally unlike the bossy, borderline-obnoxious tone of voice She had always taken with him. he remembered Her asking him what She could have done, how She could have fixed this, how She could have fixed dan. but She couldn't have. they both knew it.

as he held Her, in the present, the tables had turned. it was Her who was comforting him, though it seemed he was comforting her. perhaps they were both trying to fix each other despite that both of them were almost unfixable. scorpius knew She could not fathom what was going through his head. She couldn't possibly know he was in love with Her. she couldn't know him because he knew she was above him.

because She was the sun, shining and bright and fiery and beautiful and blinding and the centre of the revolving universe. She was the axis on which he spun, on which everything he knew spun.

and he was a solarium, a transparent glass temple dedicated to worshipping Her in all Her glory and brilliance. he was nothing compared to Her, a box that She could see right through and penetrated his easily-broken glass exterior with Her light and everything that was good. She filled him up when he was empty, nurtured the life that grew within him and reminded him what it was to be good.

"scorp?" She whispered, effortlessly grabbing tight his attention. he drew back from resting his chin on the top of Her head to look Her in those merlin-be-damned blue and gold eyes that were swimming with tears yet to fall.

She was shining so brightly he knew he was going to go blind.

but he had spent too long covering his eyes with sunglasses and shielding his face and spending his life stuck in the shadows to escape from her.

as his acute silver gaze switched to focus on Her slightly-pursed lips, he knew that he could not hide from Her radiance.

* * *

on the summer solstice of three years later, Rose cried for the fourth time. She teared up when She found the white-gold ring with the pale aquamarine gemstone in the ice cube of Her elven champagne, and tears began to fall when he had gotten down on that one knee in front of Her, in front of Her whole family and his family and their friends' families.

"yes," She breathed through Her sobs of joy, throwing Herself into his arms. scorpius felt himself tear up as their friends and family applauded. "yes," She clutched at his pinstripe shirt, kissing him tenderly on the lips. he wrapped one arm around Her waist, supporting Her weight – She was still off the ground with slender arms thrown around his neck – and the other hand tangling itself in Her delicious rusty curls, maintaining their kiss.

he knew what it felt like to be close to the sun, now. he didn't need broomsticks or apparation or science to get him up there, because the sun was right here, in his arms, holding his maternal grandmother's engagement ring in Her hand because She hadn't wasted a second to slip it on before kissing him. the sun was bright, brilliant, beautiful, and was engaged to be married to him.

"all right, then, that's enough," ron cleared his throat, and the two younger adults broke apart. Rose grinned madly and stood back on Her own two delicate feet, tears dripping past her pale peach-coloured shirt and onto the dark-rust coloured skirt She was wearing.

"i love you," She murmured, allowing scorpius to snag one more kiss – under the watchful eye of Her father – before being surrounded by Her mother and aunts and female cousins and friends. scorpius stepped back, but lurched forward as somebody shoved him. he turned around to face a certain Somebody's certain little brother, who didn't look pleased at all.

"the bloke's supposed to ask the girl's brother if he can marry her, you git," he muttered angrily. a few of the men looked sideways at the two with amused smirks. 

scorpius sighed after catching the playful glint in the younger's wickedly hazel eyes. "can i marry Rose, hugo?" hugo grinned.

"of course, idiot!" he proclaimed, clapping scorpius on the back. george weasley guffawed loudly, which would have turned heads in a normal situation, but the weasley-potter community was one of the farthest things from normal.

* * *

that night, when scorpius and Rose got back to their flat at about nine o'clock, it was still fairly light out.

when She curled up next to him half an hour later, exhausted, sweaty and naked in their bed, it was only beginning to get dark.

it wasn't by chance that he had proposed to Her on the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. the day with the longest period of light. because, when you were proposing to the sun, no other days made more sense.

* * *

they named their son Apollo, god of the sun.


End file.
